


I am fair as a dream carved in stone

by dayinthelife



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:53:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dayinthelife/pseuds/dayinthelife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the asoiafkinkmeme. Prompt: The best lesson her mockingbird ever taught her was, "Don't let a little thing like a dead body get in the way of what you really want."</p><p>She thinks of Arya, of Robb and Bran and Rickon, even Jon, and wonders what they would think if they saw her now: the obsequious, delicate little bird transformed into the wolf she was always meant to be, cunning, unflinching and sure. She would take back her home, her life, her name. She would make her family proud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am fair as a dream carved in stone

Her hand is only slightly trembling as the dagger clatters to the floor, her heart beating only slightly quicker than usual (and not at all like a bird fluttering futilely against the bars of its cage; she is a bird no longer, but wolf through and through). She looks down at the lifeless body of Petyr Baelish with blue eyes darkened by a mixture of horror and satisfaction and takes a step backward to avoid the pool of scarlet creeping toward her white fur boots. 

No longer will he keep her cooped up in this crystal prison, wings clipped and talons trimmed, helpless and friendless. No longer will she be forced to take on the role of Alayne Stone, fiery locks so much like her mother’s hidden beneath caked mud. She thinks of Arya, of Robb and Bran and Rickon, even Jon, and wonders what they would think if they saw her now: the obsequious, delicate little bird transformed into the wolf she was always meant to be, cunning, unflinching and sure. She would take back her home, her life, her name. She would make her family proud. 

“My lady…Shall we make the descent?” 

Jaime Lannister had come to her aid with perhaps two hundred men (garbed in both the crimson and gold of Casterly Rock and the colors of the many houses sworn to The Eyrie) a fortnight ago, speaking of vows, honor, and justice for Houses Stark and Arryn. Always by his side was the curious lady knight Brienne, taller than a man and uncomely, but with a voice as sweet and clear as any maid’s. At first Sansa could not look on her without thinking of Arya and feeling a tight knot in her chest, but she had come to regard the woman with respect and affection, an older sister fond of songs and stories that she had been denied as a child. 

Ser Jaime had offered to kill Littlefinger himself and Lady Brienne had advised bringing him to the king for a fairer, righteous justice. 

“I shall be the queen in the north,” she had told them quietly, hands folded politely in her lap. “And I will deliver justice myself, as my father has always done.”

So they reluctantly agreed, leaving Sansa alone with a subdued Petyr, wrists chained and mouth gagged. She had no wish to hear his pleas, had had enough of his falsehoods to last an eternity. For a moment she thought she would falter, but she forced herself to think of her mother and father, her brothers and sister, Jon, Jory, Jeyne. All of the people whose lives had been destroyed in some way by Petyr Baelish. 

“You never had my mother’s love, nor will you have mine,” she said, her breath ragged as she slit his throat in one swift motion.

Jaime leads her out of the room and she closes her eyes for a moment, letting a ripple of emotion wash over her before the calm of steel returns. She takes Sweet Robin’s hand and Brienne’s, smiles up at the knight as she gives Sansa’s hand a squeeze. “You did well my lady,” Brienne says reassuringly. Sansa nods.

She’s going home. The wolves will come again, and she will be their queen.


End file.
